


Soulmates... Are You Ready For It?

by Lavender_and_Vanilla



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Don't Post To Another Site, Fluff and Angst, Hints of Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Morning After, Not Canon Compliant, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmates, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:08:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22772293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lavender_and_Vanilla/pseuds/Lavender_and_Vanilla
Summary: Mycroft and Greg wake up the morning after discovering they are soulmates. It's amazing, incredible, fantastic. But now what?
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes & Sherlock Holmes, Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Sherlock Holmes & Greg Lestrade
Comments: 96
Kudos: 233
Collections: Mystrade Soulmates Week 2020





	1. The Consequences of Touching in a Darkened Room

**Author's Note:**

> I'm joining the 11th hour crew for this collection. I scrapped 2 other fics before this one came to me. Frankly I think the timing is perfect. Thanks to Antheas_Blackberry and BrynTWedge for their support and help getting me this point. I really hope you like this, because I do. :)

Greg came awake slowly. He first registered the warm weight in his arms, then the scent of bergamot and cedar with an underlayment of sweat and sex. Soft breaths, just this side of a snore, filled the silence of the room. Oh God, he thought. Last night was real. It really happened. He squeezed the man in his arms gently, to reinforce what he knew to be true. Mycroft Holmes was in his bed.

The man in question hummed as he was hugged and rubbed his face against Greg’s chest. He blinked sleepily and raised his head to look at his bed partner.

Greg smiled shyly. “Morning, love.” His voice was gruff with emotion and sleep.

Mycroft peered up at Greg. He worried at his lower lip and tried a timorous smile. “Good morning.”

They shifted to face each other. Greg kept an arm around Mycroft’s shoulders reluctant to lose contact. Their legs tangled together under the sheets with Mycroft’s long toes brushing against Greg’s calves.

Mycroft stared at Greg, his eyes searching, memorizing. This moment was not to be lost. It had to be preserved. Greg reached up and cupped Mycroft’s cheek. His thumb brushed along the cheekbone.

“What are you thinking?” Greg asked. “I can feel your brain whirling. It’s like ocean waves crashing and churning.”

“Can you?” Mycroft murmured. “Because I can feel your mind. It’s like a deep, calm lake rippling with the breeze.” Mycroft covered Greg’s hand with his own and turned his head to mouth a gentle kiss to the palm. “These first moments are precious. My first morning with you.”

“So, I’m not crazy. Last night… It was magical?” Greg felt a little frightened. It was overwhelming. The intensity of emotion they experienced as they finally consummated their relationship shook him to his core. He had the feeling the Mycroft felt the same. No, he _knew_ , Mycroft felt the same. It was very strange to feel such certainty.

“Magical, miraculous, marvelous… I never thought I’d be so blessed to have found a…” Mycroft stopped, his wide forehead wrinkled slightly and his breath caught as he whispered the word. “Soulmate.”

“Soulmate.” Greg echoed. The word soothed the trepidation and anxiety in his psyche. He felt the same happening to Mycroft as they voiced the unimaginable truth. They were soulmates.

Their lips met creating a kiss that was tender and mild. Every touch strengthened the fragile bond growing between them. With a whine Mycroft pressed tight to Greg’s body. Their hands restlessly roamed stroking flanks and caressing buttocks.

An irritating pinging, insistent and relentless, fought its way through the passionate haze enveloping them.

“Is that your…” Greg gasped as Mycroft nipped at the soft skin under the jaw.

Mycroft growled and reluctantly pulled away. He left the bed and stalked over to the pile of clothing on the chair in Greg’s room.

Greg propped himself up on his elbow to watch. Stark naked Mycroft could still exude an aura of power and authority.

“Yes?” Mycroft sighed and rolled his eyes. “Dear lord… No, it is decidedly not convenient… Well, of course. We can’t have that now, can we?”

Greg had a sinking feeling.

“Send a car to my location in 20 minutes and have a fresh suit ready for me. I’ll have to change when I get there.” He looked at the pile of rumpled clothing. “No, they’re not in suitable condition… Never mind why.” He hung up and dropped the mobile on to the chair.

“Called in then.” Greg stated sympathetically.

“Do you think it would be wrong for me to commission a stasis field in which to put various ministers when they are not needed? The ability of the Home Office to create chaos on Sunday is truly staggering.” Mycroft turned back to face Greg. “What?” Greg was grinning at him.

“I knew you were sexy when you were all business in your suits. But naked and all business? That takes sexy to a new level.” Greg got out of bed as he spoke, eyeing Mycroft lustfully.

“Oh, shall I go to this emergency meeting au naturale?” Mycroft raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips in a cheeky smile.

“Fuck no.” Greg wrapped his arms around Mycroft and nuzzled into the crook of the man’s neck. “This is for my eyes only.”

Mycroft rested his hands on Greg’s hips, barely suppressing a shudder as their cocks brushed together. “As much as I appreciate your wanton desire, lover-mine. I really must get a shower.”

“Mm… alright, let me show how good I am at multitasking.”

Twenty minutes later clean and sated, Greg and Mycroft stepped out Greg’s flat. Mycroft’s hand lingered at the small of Greg’s back as they made their way to the front door. Neither of them seemed to be able to go more than a few moments without seeking contact.

“You’ll come back as soon as you’re done?” Greg asked again.

“I promise.” Mycroft reassured his soulmate. “We’ve a lot to discuss.”

Greg smiled and Mycroft had to kiss him. “I’ll pick up groceries and make us dinner. Any requests?” Greg spoke

“Surprise me.”

“No allergies?”

“Not to food.”

They stepped out into the bright sunny day. The sunlight struck Greg’s eyes and he sneezed. He realized Mycroft had sneezed too. “Bless you. Are you a sun sneezer too?”

Mycroft looked a little stunned. “No, at least, not until now.” He looked at Greg. “Does this happen to you every time you step out into the sun?”

“Or bright lights in my eyes.” He shrugged. “Doesn’t last. One or two sneezes. Mum was the same way.”

They stopped by a black sedan idling in the no parking zone in front of Greg’s building. Greg frowned little.

“Don’t worry. I’ll not ask you for any favors regarding traffic violations.” Mycroft was amused.

“Were you reading my mind?”

“No, that was a fairly easy deduction to make and not related to being soulmates.” Mycroft leaned down slightly and kissed Greg chastely. “I’ll keep you apprised of my day so you know when to expect me.”

Greg tugged Mycroft’s lapels pulling his soulmate back for another kiss, slightly less chaste. “I already miss you,” he murmured.

“I’ll be right here.” Mycroft laid his hand on Greg’s chest. “Always.” Another brief kiss and then Mycroft slipped into the car and was gone.


	2. Are You Chill That I'm In Your Head?

Mycroft suppressed the urge to stand up, knock a few heads together and storm off to find his soulmate. The pointless recriminations bouncing around the room grated on his nerves. He knew this stage of the negotiations had to happen. People must feel that their grievances have been heard. Mycroft wondered what Gregory was doing. Was Gregory thinking about him? Was Gregory still reeling as he was from the recent events?

Mycroft could smell coffee, rich and freshly brewed. He glanced around the room. He hadn’t noticed any staff entering and no new pots sat on the table. The smell grew more intense and he could almost taste the brew. He rolled his tongue in his mouth and the flavor grew stronger. Bitter and dark, not at all the way he liked his coffee. Mycroft reached for his tea hoping to rinse away the sensation. The hot milky tea clashed with the phantom coffee. His brain fizzed, confused by the sensations, and Mycroft forgot how to swallow. Coughing and sputtering he hastily replaced his teacup.

Conversation stopped. “I say, Holmes. Are you alright?” asked one neighbor as another pounded on his back.

Mycroft nodded and when he got some breath back he excused himself leaving the men and lady in the room silent and confused.

In the hallway he switched on his mobile and opened his contacts.

“Mycroft, love, are you done?” Greg voice settled his breathing and Mycroft sighed with relief.

“No, unfortunately. I called to ask how your shopping was going.”

“Fine. Stopped for a coffee and then I’m headed back. I’ve got a feast planned for us.” Greg sounded very pleased.

“Coffee? Tell me, is it your usual tongue blistering order?” Mycroft asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yeah, an Americano. Why?”

Mycroft heard Greg take a sip and braced for the foul sensation to fill his mouth. “Would you believe that I can smell it and even taste it?”

“Really? That’s amazing.” Greg excitedly replied.

“The word I would have used is disgusting.” Mycroft grumbled. He waved at a staff member waiting in the hall and sent them for water. “I nearly choked on my tea trying wash the taste out of my mouth.”

“Oh, love, I’m sorry. Do you think this has to do with being soulmates?”

“I can only assume. May I ask that for now you stick with water? At least until I get back.”

“Sure. Have you been able to smell and taste everything I’ve had so far?”

“No, this was the first instance.”

“We should research this tonight.”

“Agreed. At present I must go back in, make my apologies and see if they are finally ready to stop passing the blame around.” He accepted a water bottle and nodded his thanks.

“Go get ‘em big boy.”

“Gregory, please.” Mycroft blushed.

“What? I know you’ve got it where it counts.” Greg’s teasing tone was doing unhelpful things to Mycroft.

“Good bye.” Mycroft hung up. He took a swig of water and a moment to compose himself before returning to the meeting.

* * *

“Okay. What’ve you got?” Greg settled on his sofa next to Mycroft who was tapping away at his laptop. He set down their coffees and in deference to his soulmate Greg had added a splash of milk to his own coffee.

Dinner had been a lovely roast, with crispy potatoes and roasted vegetables. Greg had timed it perfectly. Some how he knew exactly when Mycroft was heading back to the flat and even accounted for time for them to have sex and a shower before dinner.

“As expected, actual information is rather thin on the ground.” Mycroft replied as he navigated in and out of websites most them filled with ads for healing crystals and essential oils. “I was able to access an old case report from a reputable medical journal. It had some interesting observations.”

“Let’s hear it.” Greg picked up his coffee, clearly ready to take a drink.

“Wait a moment.” Mycroft stopped Greg from drinking. He reached for his own cup and took several sips. “Now I think I’m ready.” Greg grinned and watched Mycroft as he drank. Mycroft made a moue of distaste. “Would you consider adding just a bit of sugar?”

“My, it’s coffee, not dessert.”

“I suppose I’ll get used to it.” Mycroft sighed. He returned to the laptop as Greg settled close leaning against Mycroft’s side. Mycroft raised his arm and Greg snuggled in with a contented hum. Mycroft pressed a kiss to Greg’s temple. “It’s a small price to pay.”

“Tell me what you learned,” Greg prompted, interested to know if there were other prices to pay.

“As you are probably aware the soulmate phenomena is not well studied and most of the documentation we have are anecdotes and case studies.” Mycroft pulled up the page with the case report. “There are a few studies involving imaging the brains of soulmates to see where the link seems to be but there doesn’t seem to any generalizable correlation.”

“Ah… um…”

“That for each couple it seems to be a different part of the brain that shows unusual activity that is unique to them.”

“Got it. Each couple has a part of their brain that’s linked, but that can be different from couple to couple. So we seem to be linked through the sense of smell and taste?”

“It appears that’s our primary link. Though, I suspect we have others. Auditory, visual and sensory seem to be the most common links documented.”

“Naturally we’re a rare pair.”

Mycroft gave Greg an un-amused look. “Really?” Greg smiled cheekily.

“In any case, the case report I found is a very old one. It's of a couple that had an auditory link. The two men were suspected of having auditory hallucinations but it turned out they were actually hearing their soulmate and their soulmate’s surroundings. They had incidentally met as children and no one realized this was a consequence of having met their soulmate at such an early age. It’s a bittersweet tale. They had been institutionalized thought to be psychotic. Fortunately, they were at the same institution and found each other. Unfortunately, they had been institutionalized so long they couldn’t really function in the world without a tremendous amount of support.”

“They kept them together, right?” Greg squirmed closer still to Mycroft and was rewarded with a tight hug.

“Yes, they were together for the rest of their lives. Passed away within hours of each other.”

Greg and Mycroft sat quietly considering the implications. Greg then spoke. “You say you suspect we have other connections?”

“Yes. I suspect a less dominant visual connection. Your photic sneeze reflex is a visual reflex related to the optic nerve being crossed with the trigeminal nerve. I sneezed when you were exposed to bright light the same time you did.”

“But your nerves aren’t crossed. So why did you sneeze?”

“Unknown.” Mycroft closed the laptop. “As I’ve learned there is still much yet to be studied.” He set the computer aside and picked up his coffee.

“Well, I’ve learned this,” Greg declared. “I need to wear sunglasses more often and start to take milk in my coffee.”

“Please,” Mycroft all but begged and Greg snickered.

“I wonder what you’re going to learn.” Greg closed his eyes and rested his head on Mycroft’s chest. Their hearts seemed to be beating in time together.

Mycroft ran his fingers through Greg’s hair, gently carding through the silver strands. “That remains to be seen.”

“Or heard. Or felt. It could be all the senses you know. We’ve got three of the five to a greater or lesser degree.”

“True.” Mycroft paused. “We aren’t smelling or tasting everything the other does. And I’ve not experienced any visions. Have you?”

“No. But like when you were coming home I had a very good idea of where you were. I couldn’t exactly see what you saw but the information was there in my head.”

“Fascinating.” Mycroft murmured gazing into space, not focused on anything.

“Oi. Your brain is churning again.” Greg pulled away. “Makes me dizzy.” He stood up, wobbling slightly.

Mycroft looked over concerned. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, a bit better now that we aren’t touching. I think you’re going to have to learn not to go at top speed when I’m so close. Or at least give me a chance to move out of range.”

“Apologies.”

“None needed. I love you for being you. Don’t ever stop.” Greg placed a brief kiss on Mycroft’s forehead. He picked up the cups with now cold coffee. “M’headed to bed. Come find me when you’re done thinking.”


	3. My Heart, Body and Soul

By morning it was decided they would move to Mycroft’s flat in London. It was closer to both of their jobs and had decidedly more room then Greg’s one bedroom. Mycroft preferred the hominess of Greg’s flat but they agreed it was too small for two adults, one of which had a wardrobe the size of Greg’s current bedroom. Greg promised to leave his socks in the sofa cushions and empty mugs in the kitchen sink to give Mycroft’s place a more lived in feel.

Neither felt that the rapidity with which they were enmeshing their lives was an issue. The bond they felt was so strong any thoughts of taking it slow were squelched by the fierce ache that was generated by even considering a night apart. Mycroft had noted to Greg his reading indicated this would fade as their partnership stabilized. While they would always be happier together, they wouldn’t feel quite so tethered.

“Not that I’d mind, but I doubt you are going to want to go to the Police Federation Conference in Manchester this summer.” Greg remarked as they left his flat Monday morning to head to their respective jobs.

“You would be correct.” Mycroft agreed and handed Greg a pair of sunglasses before they stepped outside.

“Thanks, love.” Donning the glasses Greg walked out the door and glanced down the street to the black sedan sitting in a perfectly legal space. He frowned. “Mycroft?”

Mycroft stepped outside. “Yes?’

“Did you—“ Greg stopped, sneezing twice.

“Bless you.”

“Wait, you didn’t sneeze?”

Mycroft shrugged. “My nerves aren’t crossed. I assume that connection is only one way?”

Greg threw up his hands. “This makes no fucking sense.”

“I’ll wear sunglasses too when going outside.” He took Greg’s arm and led him to the car.

“Did you have the parking rezoned on this street? I’m sure this wasn’t a legal spot yesterday.”

“There are a few perks when one works for the ministry of transport.”

* * *

“Soulmates?” Sherlock was incredulous. “You and Lestrade?”

They had agreed it would be best for Sherlock to know right away and Mycroft thought it fell to him to tell his brother. It had taken significant persuasion to get Sherlock to meet Mycroft at his office. Mycroft was now on the hook for Easter dinner and a show with their parents.

“Yes, it was a bit of a shock for us as well. But we are… adjusting.”

“Has anyone in our family had a soulmate before?” Sherlock mused. “And why you? I would’ve said you didn’t have a soul.”

Mycroft rolled his eyes, “Apparently I do or whatever it is that creates this bond.”

“Are you sure? You didn’t happen to drink too much one night and—“

“Yes, Sherlock,” Mycroft interrupted him firmly. “We’re sure.”

Sherlock studied Mycroft for a moment. “What’s it like?”

Mycroft shook his head slightly as he searched for words. “Amazing, maddening, confusing, uncomfortable, soothing. It’s not within my ability to describe it.”

“That sounded like a good start.”

“The thing that is most disconcerting is the odd physical links.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, we seem to have some physical connection. It is not reliable, but we’ve experienced smells, taste and very limited visual sensory input from the other.”

“No auditory connection?” Sherlock was definitely curious.

“No, oddly. It is the most common physical connection when a physical connection manifests, but the olfactory and gustatory senses seem dominant.”

Sherlock snickered, “Obviously.” Mycroft looked puzzled. “Now come on. It’s as plain as—“

Mycroft rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, alright. Do shut up.”

Sherlock smirked, but changed topic slightly. “Are you able to read each other’s thoughts as some claim?”

“No, thank God. When in close proximity we can sense the other’s mind but not thoughts. It’s more like being able to sense distress or bliss more easily.” Mycroft paused ruminating, then continued. “When there is pleasure the intensity is… intoxicating. I will tell you the sex is—“

Sherlock held up his hands and turned away. “No. Stop. Not interested.”

“Apologies. I didn’t mean to alarm you.” It was Mycroft’s turn to smirk.

“I’m not alarmed. I’m—what is it?” Sherlock stared as Mycroft suddenly cried out and his hands flew to his face.

Hissing with pain Mycroft blinked rapidly at the tears forming in his eyes. His hands were cupped over his mouth and nose. Sherlock moved towards him. “Is it Lestrade?”

“Must be,” panted Mycroft. He dropped his hands and scrambled for the intercom. “Anthea see if you can find Detective Inspector Lestrade on the CCTV.” He barked.

“Mycroft.” Sherlock gaped at his brother who was now reaching for his mobile.

Mycroft didn’t look up from his phone as he opened his contacts. “Something has happened to him.”

“Mycroft.”

“What?” Sherlock’s brother snapped as he looked up, raising the mobile to his ear.

“You’re bleeding.” Sherlock reached out and gently touched his brother’s philtrum. His fingers came away wet with blood.

* * *

Mycroft and Sherlock found Greg in the ED at University Hospital. Anthea located CCTV footage of Greg taking an elbow to the face during an arrest. Though Mycroft knew Greg was in no immediate danger, he was a shaky, sweaty mess by the time he made it to Greg’s side.

“I’m okay love,” Greg murmured. He reached up to caress Mycroft’s cheek.

Mycroft stood as close as he could, clutching Greg’s hand to his chest. He thought he might weep with relief.

“Hey, what’s this?” Greg’s thumb gently brushed against Mycroft’s nostrils.

“I had a nose bleed when you were injured. I thought I’d gotten it all off.” Mycroft let go with one hand and reached for his usually pristine handkerchief, now spotted with blood. He rubbed it against his nose.

“You had a nose bleed?” It was an unfamiliar voice and Mycroft finally noticed another party was in the room. “Hello, I’m Dr. Roberts.” A tall, middle-aged woman with kind eyes and wavy, auburn hair held out her hand in greeting. “I’m a neurologist affiliated with the hospital. I was asked to consult on Mr. Lestrade.”

“Neurologist? Gregory?” Mycroft ignored the hand, looking instead at Greg. His panic was rising again.

“Steady, My. You’re racing again.”

Mycroft closed his eyes and took a breath. He felt the deep pool of calm that was Greg’s mind and focused on slowing his own brain. He was dimly aware of Sherlock behaving like an adult and introducing himself and Mycroft to the physician.

“They called the doc here because I mentioned I had a soulmate.” Greg explained. “I didn’t want you to get the runaround when you came looking for me. Dr. Roberts is doing a study on soulmates.”

Mycroft finally felt calm enough to open his eyes. “Apologies Dr. Roberts. This situation is still very new to us. I don’t think we’re quite accustomed to the all the ramifications.”

“It’s quite alright Mr. Holmes. Mr. Lestrade said it was recent discovery. I can see your bond is likely less than a week old. These early days are like a roller coaster as your minds and bodies adjust to the bond.”

“Lestrade said you are doing a study?” Sherlock asked.

“Yes, exploring the physical connections and psychic connections of soulmates. It’s for soulmates who have had their bond at least 6 months, so your brother and his partner don’t qualify yet.” She turned to Mycroft and Greg. “But I do hope you’ll consider participating once you reach that point. I’m very interested to have a pair of soulmates with olfactory and gustatory connections. We don’t have any soulmates with such a connection in the study.”

“Doctor if I may ask a question?” Dr. Roberts indicated for Mycroft to continue. “If the connection is primarily olfactory and gustatory senses why would I experience pain and bleeding similar to Gregory’s?”

“We believe in the early days it’s often the case that the two “souls” are still trying out different connections. Eventually the strongest connections remain and the others fade gradually over then next few months. Generally things are stabilized after six months. That’s why we designed our study to include soulmates with a bond of six months or more. We didn’t want to interfere with the natural process.” She turned to Sherlock. “Do you have a soulmate Mr. Holmes?”

“Me? No, not likely.” Sherlock replied dismissively.

Dr. Roberts smiled. “We find that siblings of soulmates have an over 50% chance of having a soulmate of their own. Don’t discount the possibility.” She turned back to Mycroft and Greg still holding hands tightly. “I’ll have the nurse give you my contact information and links to reliable information on soulmates when you’re discharged. I have your contact information, Mr. Lestrade, so I’ll be in touch later. Please don’t hesitate to call me if you have any questions.”

She shook hands all around and left the room.

“Isn’t that exciting Mycroft? In a few months we can participate in a soulmate study. We can help increase the knowledge base.” Greg was grinning at his partner.

“Can we first get through the next six months without any more bodily harm? I’m not sure I can handle any more damage to your person.” Mycroft looked dead on his feet.

“Aw, love. I’m sorry. I always knew you had a sensitive soul.” Greg kissed the back of his soulmate’s hand.

Sherlock gagged. “There’s got to be an emesis basin here somewhere.”

“You just wait until it’s your turn.” Greg cheerily teased Sherlock.


	4. I Miss The Way You Made Me Feel.

“Sorry, mate. I’ve got nothing today.” Greg shrugged and gestured to the empty in-box. “Why don’t you ask your brother?”

“I was just there.” Sherlock whined as he paced Greg’s office. “I’m so bored!”

Greg sighed. Sherlock bored was never a good thing. “Well, I can have Donovan bring up some cold cases.”

“Fine.” Sherlock threw himself in the visitor’s chair, pouting. 

Greg rolled his eyes and got up from his desk. “Oi Donovan,” he called out the door. “Have box 13 brought up for Sherlock.” Greg scowled at the back of Sherlock’s head. “He’s bored.” 

“Right boss.” Donovan replied. 

Greg walked back to his desk. Sherlock watched him carefully. “You’re limping,” he observed.

“Yeah, Mycroft stubbed his toe this morning. Hurts like a son-a-bitch.” Greg seated himself back behind his desk. 

“Curious, Mycroft wasn’t limping when I saw him.” Sherlock noted.

“No. For some reason it hurt me more than him.” Greg shrugged. “I don’t get it. We’re two months in and things are still pretty topsy-turvy.”

“But your main connection is still smell and taste?” 

“Yeah. I’ve had to start taking milk in my coffee.” Greg looked disappointed. “But,” Greg held up a finger. “I made him give up kale. Disgusting stuff.” He stuck out his tongue and shuddered.

Sherlock hummed in agreement. “Are there any other connections that are new?” 

“Well, we briefly had an increase in the visual connection. I was driving and suddenly all I could see was the PM bawling out some poor undersecretary.”

“Ugh. Boring.” Sherlock slouched in the chair and closed his eyes.

“Anything but when your vision cuts out as you enter Trafalgar Square.” Greg corrected him. “Thankfully Donovan was in the car and got us pulled over safely.”

“I suppose.” Sherlock muttered.

“I’ve had my security clearance upgraded in case I see one of those tea dates with the Queen. Would you believe that’s higher than a MI6 strategy meeting?”

“No.” Sherlock clearly wasn’t interested.

Greg shrugged and rubbed his nose. “No auditory connections. Which I think is a shame.”

“Oh?” 

“Well. It’d be convenient, right?” Sherlock sighed heavily. Greg ignored him and went on. “Like, ‘Oi love, stop and get some milk on the way home.’ Stuff like that.”

“You would waste a connection on such an inanity?” 

Greg was quiet. 

Sherlock cracked his eyelids to look at Greg. “Are you sensing something now?”

“Yeah,” Greg responded absently. He rubbed his nose again. “There’s a really strong floral scent and—“ Greg pitched forward sneezing forcefully three times.

Sherlock sat up. “Fascinating.”

“Jesus Christ,” Greg gasped before sneezing again. 

“Incredible.” Sherlock watched avidly as Greg gasped and then shuddered, sneezing into his elbow. “Are you experiencing any other allergy symptoms? Itchy, watery eyes? Nasal congestion?” Greg shook his head woozily. “Anything at all?”

Greg raised his head and stared at Sherlock. The floral scent was gone and so was the need to sneeze. All he could smell was the usual vague scent of industrial cleaner, paper and stale coffee. 

Sherlock looked annoyed. “Is that it? That’s all?” He huffed and stood. “Well, I expected that to last longer.” He straightened his coat, heading for the door.

Greg sat stunned at his desk. He rubbed at his face, looking lost and bewildered. “What did you do?” Greg asked plaintively, “Jesus, Sherlock. What did you do?’

Sherlock paused at the door. “I was bored,” he said simply.

* * *

Greg slipped into the darkened bedroom. “Hey,” he whispered. “I’ve an ice pack for you.” Mycroft lay on the bed with a pillow over his eyes. Greg sat on the edge of the bed and carefully lifted the pillow, putting it aside. Mycroft’s eyes were swollen nearly shut. “Oh love,” Greg murmured as he gently laid the ice pack across Mycroft’s eyes. 

“I’m going to kill him.” Mycroft’s voice was congested and he coughed. 

“I’ll help you,” Greg replied. Mycroft struggled to sit up holding the ice pack to his face, still coughing. “Do you want some water?” Greg picked up a water glass from the bedside table, as Mycroft nodded. He assisted his soulmate into a more upright position. 

Mycroft sipped some water and lay back against the pillows Greg had piled behind him. “No court would convict me.”

“Snap your fingers and he’ll disappear without a trace. It’ll never get to court. My team will bury the case.”

Mycroft smiled briefly, then his expression went glum. “Can’t. Mummy would never forgive me.”

“You’d think she’d never forgive Sherlock for doing this to you.” Greg grumbled. He knew Mycroft was right though. Sherlock was the favorite son. 

“To us.” Mycroft corrected. A tear trickled down from under the ice pack.

“Yes, to us.” Greg murmured hollowly. “How did he even do it?”

Mycroft removed the ice pack and reached for a tissue. He blotted his eyes and sniffled. “He had the bouquet of lilies delivered last night to my rooms at the Diogenes. He arrived before I did this morning and the staff took him directly to my rooms as per prior agreement. That gave him time to hide the flowers so I wouldn’t find them immediately.” Mycroft shook his head. “I should have known something was up. He was in and out so quickly.”

Greg sighed. “I knew he was being way too patient waiting for the cold cases. He wanted to see how I’d react.”

“I’m grateful you haven’t had to suffer what I have.” Mycroft took Greg’s hand and gave it a little squeeze. 

Greg looked down at their hands and felt such a profound sense of loss. The churning ocean of Mycroft’s mind seemed so far away. Like a veil had been drawn between them.

Mycroft tried to look at Greg through the slits of his swollen eyelids. “Something is wrong. Why can’t I feel you the way I could before?” He frowned and reached for Greg’s face. “Gregory?”

Greg bit his lip. “I don’t know,” he replied, resting his cheek in Mycroft’s palm. “I felt the connection just shut down after about a minute into the reaction you were having.” He was having a hard time keeping his voice steady. “Even when I’m touching you now what I sense is muted.”

“I’m sure it’s only temporary,” Mycroft tried to soothe his partner. 

“You think?” Greg’s voice quavered. “I… I miss it.” He swiped at his eyes. “I didn’t realize how much in these last couple of months I’d grown used to the connections being there.”

Mycroft scooted over in the bed and pulled Greg down next to him. Greg curled into Mycroft’s side and held him close. “Perhaps the connection became overwhelmed.”

“Like a fuse blowing?”

“It could be.” Mycroft agreed. Greg started to cry in earnest. Mycroft made soft quiet shushing sounds trying to calm his partner. He rubbed Greg’s back and gradually Greg’s sobs slowed. “Dearest, conceivably it’ll reset itself.”

“I feel like I jinxed us.” Greg sniffled.

Mycroft managed to grab a few tissues to offer to Greg. “Why ever would you feel that way?”

Greg wiped at his nose and eyes before continuing. “Recently, I’ve felt a bit resentful. Like having to take milk in my coffee and having to wear sunglasses all the time. I’ve wondered if I’d have to quit driving if my vision was going to cut out at random moments. I’m worried I might reveal a state secret to my mum because I saw something I shouldn’t.” Greg’s body trembled against Mycroft. “I didn’t need a soulmate connection to know I love you. So what if my doubts made it easier for the connection to break or be overwhelmed? What if I’m somehow responsible? Now I have a huge case of ‘you-don’t-know-what-you’ve-got-‘til-it’s-gone’.”

Mycroft listened and didn’t interrupt. When Greg lay trembling and quiet against him, Mycroft spoke softly, “If you’re at fault then I’m equally to blame.” 

“What do you mean?” Greg asked, a little fearful of the answer.

“I have felt similarly about the bonds that have been forming.” Mycroft confessed. “I rather miss my kale salads, though in no way would I trade you for them. You’ve made the lion’s share of the concessions, still I feel rather put out at times by all the compromises.” He tried a small smile. “We’re rather set in our ways.”

“I don’t know what to hope for now.” Greg murmured. “Do we want the connections back or not? I know I don’t want to lose you as my lover and partner.”

“Neither do I lover-mine, neither do I.”

* * *

Mycroft found Greg in the kitchen the following morning. He watched Greg pour his coffee from the café press and then walk to the refrigerator. 

“You don’t need to do that.” Mycroft spoke softly. 

Greg turned around holding the milk carton in his hand. “What?”

“The milk.” Mycroft moved to take the carton and put it back in the refrigerator. 

“But…”

“Enjoy your coffee the way you like it.” Mycroft insisted.

Greg nodded and went back to his mug. The steam wafted into the air from the hot beverage. He stared into the dark liquid. “I’m afraid to drink it.”

“Well you should be.” Mycroft responded. “It’s obviously too hot.” A tiny smile played at the corners of his mouth. 

Greg looked up and smiled. “Can I make you tea?”

“Please.” Mycroft sat down at the kitchen table. He took out a clean handkerchief from his robe pocket and gently blew his nose.

“How’re you feeling?” Greg asked from across the room where he prepped the teapot. 

“Better.” Mycroft cleared his throat. “Still a bit congested.” 

The toaster popped and Greg pulled the pieces of bread from the appliance. He quickly buttered them while the toast was still hot. He brought over to the table the plate of toast and a jar of marmalade. “It’s nice to see your beautiful eyes again.” He leaned over, kissing Mycroft’s forehead.

Mycroft tilted his chin up and Greg kissed him again on the lips. Mycroft cupped Greg’s cheek, smooth and soft from his recent shave, and returned the kiss. “That’s a proper good morning kiss,” he murmured. Greg grinned faintly and went back to fetch the tea and coffee.

“You going in today?” Greg asked, noting Mycroft was not yet dressed.

“Later. I’m working from home until some more of the antihistamines have worn off and I can be guaranteed not to fall asleep during my meetings.” Mycroft spread a thin layer of marmalade on his toast. “You?” he asked as he took a bite.

“Yeah, there are some loose ends to tidy up and prep for court.” Greg also dived into his toast dropping a hefty dollop of marmalade on a corner and taking a very large bite. “Oh I forgot your milk.” Greg popped up and went to the refrigerator. 

“Do you think you would be free this weekend for a getaway?” Mycroft stirred his tea.

“Yeah,” he replied when he returned with the milk. “That sounds great.”

“Thank you.” Mycroft poured a bit of milk into his tea. “It occurred to me that we’d likely benefit from some time alone.” Mycroft stated as he finished preparing his tea. “These last two months have been tumultuous, not to mention yesterday.”

Greg hummed in agreement. “Some place quiet, with gorgeous views and a bathtub big enough for two.” Greg reached out and took Mycroft’s hand. “That would be amazing.”

Mycroft smiled and sipped his tea. “Then I shall make it so.”


	5. All Our Senses Come to Life

It was two weeks before they were able to arrange their minibreak. Having a getaway to which to look forward made the time bearable. Neither Greg nor Mycroft spoke much about their loss. Instead every morning Greg would sip his black coffee and look hopefully at Mycroft. Mycroft would shake his head slightly and avoid seeing the disappointment in Greg’s face.

In the evenings they would eat together and share the events of the day. Generally they ended their evening with a small scotch as they watched a movie or a BBC documentary.

In the night they would reach for each other. Sometimes roughly and without words, and other times tenderly, murmuring pledges of love and care. There in the dark after their orgasms and before their hearts had settled back into their individual rhythms, they could feel the bond.

“Stay,” Greg would plead softly in the dark. “Stay.”

“Always,” Mycroft would whisper back. “Always.”

By morning the connection would only be a distant tug, a faint reminder of what it had once been.

Sherlock didn’t attempt to apologize when he learned of the ruptured bond. “Can’t possibly have been a real soulmate bond if it couldn’t withstand a little allergy attack,” he scoffed when Mycroft told him what happened.

Mycroft shrugged and nodded impassively. He gave his brother a case to occupy his brain. He warned Sherlock not to approach Greg just yet. “In this instance, he’s less forgiving than I, brother-mine.”

* * *

“Oh Mycroft,” Greg stood stunned in the doorway of a quiet cottage on the coast of Cornwall. “This is…” He moved about admiring the wide sofa in front of a cozy fireplace, and then caught sight of the view out the picture window. The sea sparkled on the horizon. He turned back to see Mycroft standing in the entrance looking hopeful. “This is really amazing.”

“I hoped it would be satisfactory,” Mycroft replied softly.

“It’s more than that,” Greg enthused and went to check the bedroom and en suite. The bed was large and piled with soft pillows and warm blankets. “Mycroft, check out this tub! _You_ could stretch out in this one.”

Mycroft left the bags by the door and joined Greg in the bathroom. Even the copper slipper tub impressed him.

“Let’s have a bath before we do anything else.” Greg grinned and began to unbutton his shirt.

“Good heavens! Might I close the front door?” Mycroft laughed and left to do just that.

Later Greg reclined against Mycroft in the grand tub. Surrounded by warm, scented water, they could gaze out the large window in the en suite towards the ocean beyond. If they were very quiet they could just make out the sound of the surf. It was nearly twilight and the cottage was growing dim.

“Thank you, My-love,” Greg murmured. “I needed this.”

A little wave of delight shivered down Mycroft’s back at the endearment. “I daresay I needed this as well.” Mycroft pressed a kiss to Greg’s head. Greg stroked Mycroft’s arms where they encircled him.

“Can I make a confession?” Despite Greg professing to be relaxed, Mycroft could feel the tension in his lover.

“Yes?” Mycroft’s arms tightened slightly around Greg.

Greg pressed back against Mycroft and pulled the man’s arms even more snugly around himself. “I called Dr. Roberts, yesterday, to tell her what had happened and to see what she thought.”

“I see. What did you learn?” Mycroft held his breath.

“Nothing. I hung up before anyone picked up.” Mycroft slowly released his breath. “Want to know why?”

“Yes, I would.”

“I realized it didn’t matter to me what she would say.” Greg turned in Mycroft’s arms to look at him. “I’m committed to you and this relationship.”

Mycroft felt his heart swell. “Gregory…”

“You’re my soulmate, with or without bonds. Nothing changes that.”

“You’re a wise man, lover-mine.” Mycroft gazed tenderly at the man in his arms.

Greg reached up and caressed Mycroft’s face, feeling the stubble under his fingers. “I’m still the person I was before and you liked me well enough.”

Mycroft’s eyes sparkled. “I still do.”

Greg smiled mischievously. “And you’re still the posh wanker you were before.” Mycroft sputtered. “I definitely still like you. Screw these soulmate bonds.” Greg declared.

“I’d much rather screw you.” Mycroft hands slid down Greg’s back to cup his lover’s firm arse.

“God, I was hoping you would.” Greg growled before diving in for a deep, soul-searing kiss.

* * *

Greg dreamt he was floating down a river. The water was warm and buoyant. He couldn’t tell where his skin ended and the water began. Light danced on the wavelets. He felt content and safe.

He awoke needing the loo rather urgently. The soft patter of rain on the windows encouraged him to return to the bed and Mycroft’s embrace.

“Where’d you go?” Mycroft mumbled as Greg slid back under the duvet.

“To the loo. It’s raining.”

“Bugger.” Mycroft grumbled and snuggled against Greg. Greg smiled as Mycroft pushed him over onto his side to be the little spoon. The sound of trickling water lulled them back to sleep.

Mycroft dreamt he was floating down a river. The water was warm and buoyant. He couldn’t tell where his skin ended and the water began. He could smell salt and minerals in the air. He felt protected and comforted.

He awoke feeling parched and thirsty. He found bottled water in the kitchenette and returned with one for Greg.

“Is it morning?” Greg huffed as Mycroft wriggled under the covers.

“Not quite.”

“Fuck, your feet are cold.” Greg groused and tangled his legs around Mycroft’s legs trying to warm the icy toes. Mycroft smiled as Greg fussed over him and his chilly feet. There was a soft roll of thunder as they drifted back to sleep.

* * *

The morning was spent lazing in front of the fire they’d built in the fireplace, nibbling on the contents of the breakfast basket delivered earlier that morning by their hosts. They had made a nest on what Greg dubbed the cuddling couch with the throws and extra pillows. Greg was reading a spy thriller and Mycroft was steadily working through a backlog of crossword puzzles from the Times.

It was there Greg discovered Mycroft was ticklish.

“How did I not know this?” Greg gleefully dug his fingers into Mycroft’s side making him squeal and squirm. “Almost four months together.”

“Stop!” Mycroft panted and Greg immediately complied. Flushed and disheveled, Mycroft wiped the tears from his eyes. “Beast. You’re to tell no one. No. One.”

“You’re secret’s safe with me.” Greg beamed at Mycroft.

“What?” Mycroft ran his hands through his unruly curls.

“You’re gorgeous, is all.” Greg settled under Mycroft’s arm and laid his head on Mycroft’s chest.

“I believe you are the one that is gorgeous, lover-mine. I’m merely passably attractive in certain lights.”

Greg snorted. “Just humor me and agree, My-love.”

* * *

“Gin.” Greg discarded and presented his hand for inspection.

“Of course.” Mycroft rolled his eyes and put down his cards. “Of course you have gin. I’ve over 40 unpaired points in my hand.”

“Let’s see that makes…”

“560 to 135.” Mycroft grumbled as he noted the point totals on the nearby pad.

Greg smiled as he collected the cards. “You won a few hands.”

“Four hands and only because I knocked.” Mycroft pouted. “You’d only a scant number of points in those hands. If I’d known you were such a card shark I’d never consented to playing gin with you.”

“M’not a card shark.” Greg chuckled. “You just need to be ready to change strategies on the fly, be flexible.” He shuffled the deck, deftly forming a bridge as he did.

“Flexible?” Mycroft lowered his eyes coyly.

Greg caught the look and waggled his eyebrows. “Yeah, flexible. Care for a demonstration?”

“Oh most certainly,” Mycroft purred.

“Okay.” Greg began to deal another hand. “First you dump the cards that have high points, unless you can meld them…”

Mycroft groaned.

* * *

The sun came out by afternoon. That and hunger forced them out of the cottage to make the short drive to the nearby village and the local pub. Mycroft bemoaned his lack of control in devouring the giant plate of fish and chips he’d ordered. Amused Greg suggested a walk along the shoreline.

They were quiet as they wandered the rocky beach. Greg searched for sea glass among the rocks. Mycroft paused and picked up a few stones, skimming them across the calm surface of the water. Greg watched, surprised and curious.

“You know how to skim stones?”

Mycroft glanced at Greg and skimmed another, five hops. Greg whistled, impressed. “I think that’s evident,” replied Mycroft with a smirk. “Can’t you?”

“No. Never got the knack for it.” Greg moved closer to observe as Mycroft selected a smooth, flat stone and sent it skipping across the water.

“Once you have the right stone, it’s all in the wrist.” Greg chose a rock. “Mm… that’s not flat enough.” Mycroft looked about and found a better stone. “Hold it like so.” He demonstrated the grip with the index finger curved around the edge.

Greg gripped the rock and threw. “Ah, bugger,” he muttered as the stone hit the water and sank.

Mycroft pursed his lips. “It’s your stance.” He moved behind Greg, his long frame curved around Greg. “Hold your body like so and throw with your arm out.” Mycroft guided Greg through the throw. The stone skipped three times.

“Hey!” Greg cheered. He bent and chose another rock. Mycroft stood back and Greg threw; it skimmed the water three times. Eyes shining, he grinned at Mycroft. “I can do it! It only took 40 years and one lesson from you.” Greg threw two more stones laughing as they skipped and hopped across the water. “I can skim stones. You’re a brilliant teacher.”

Mycroft smiled at Greg’s delight at his newfound skill. “You’re an apt pupil, much better than Sherlock. He’d throw the stone. It’d land with a tremendous splash and he’d shout, ‘Direct Hit!’” Mycroft rolled his eyes. “Every damn time.”

“You mean like this?” Greg picked up a large rock and heaved it into the sea. “Direct Hit!” He shouted arms raised in the air.

Mycroft threw back his head and laughed.

Greg embraced Mycroft, kissing his cheek. “I love it when you laugh. I mean really laugh.”

“It seems easy when I’m with you, lover-mine.” Mycroft confessed. “The world is brighter and has more joy, when you’re around.”

“Same, My-love.”

They kissed. Clouds skittered overhead. Mycroft’s hands pressed into the small of Greg’s back pulling him closer. The ocean lapped at the shoreline. Greg cradled Mycroft’s head, digging his fingers into the auburn waves. The caws of the seabirds floated in the breeze. They broke apart dazed and panting.

“You feel that?” Greg rested a hand on Mycroft’s chest.

“Yes, it feels stronger, tighter but…”

“Flexible?” Greg offered.

“Mm, yes, flexible.” Mycroft agreed.

Greg threw back his head and crowed. Mycroft laughed with Greg. They hurried toward the car. Holding hands, they stumbled across the rocks, each catching the other before they could fall. Stopping at the car, they snogged again as they emptied their shoes of sand and stones. A small pebble fell from Mycroft’s shoe as Greg searched his trainer for the rock that made his heel feel sore.


	6. Lay Your Body Next To Mine And Our Hearts Will Beat As One

The drive back to the cottage wasn’t long but Mycroft wondered if they’d make it one piece. They couldn’t seem to keep their hands off each other. The car wandered all over the narrow track of road before finally pulling in to the drive.

“Open the damn door,” Greg growled. He ground his hips against Mycroft’s arse.

Mycroft fumbled the keys as he tried to fit them in the lock of the cottage door. “I’m trying and you aren’t helping,” he gasped as Greg began to nibble along the back of his neck. He pushed back against Greg, not able to resist wriggling his bum against Greg’s hard cock. He grinned at the sound of the desperate moan he’d elicited.

Restless hands pushed up under Mycroft’s jumper. “Who locks doors in the middle of nowhere?”

“I swear to God, Gregory Lestrade if you tickle me…” Mycroft squirmed and finally got the door open. They staggered inside, Greg holding on to Mycroft’s jumper.

Greg swung Mycroft around to kiss him. “Just want to touch you…” His hands caressed the soft flesh of Mycroft’s flanks, causing shivers and goose bumps. “Feel your skin.” His voice was low and gruff, causing Mycroft’s prick to twitch and jump.

A needy groan escaped Mycroft’s throat as they greedily kissed each other. He fumbled with Greg’s belt and fly. Greg broke off the kiss and, panting, rested his head on Mycroft’s shoulder as long, clever fingers slipped into his pants.

“Oh… Jesus…” Greg managed to mumble. His cock throbbed and leaked under the firm stroke of Mycroft’s hand.

“What say we move this to the bed?” Mycroft kissed the shell of Greg’s ear. His fondling of Greg’s cock and the depraved noises coming from Greg made his own weep for attention.

Greg quaked. Between the silky purr in his ear and the warm pressure on his cock he was nearly undone. He managed to pull himself together enough to reply. “Well, you’ve got me by the short ones.” He gave a shaky laugh. “I won’t argue.”

“Cheeky,” Mycroft huffed and a smile curved his mouth. “Come with me, lover-mine.” He tugged Greg towards the bed. Clothing seemed to magically fall off of them, leaving a trail from the front door, still ajar, to the bedroom.

Settled in the bed Greg looked up at Mycroft. He felt buoyant, riding the tide of love and lust. He smiled to see the hungry gaze glittering in those blue eyes. Greg reached up, welcoming Mycroft into his arms.

Mycroft stared down into the dark, deep pools of Greg’s eyes. He could feel a gentle but insistent tugging, like the current of a fast flowing river. Greg beckoned and Mycroft let himself be swept away.

As they lay in the afterglow, Mycroft’s long limbs folded up allowing him to curl in Greg’s arms, Mycroft murmured, “Do you think it’s back to stay?”

“Seems like it.” Greg replied rubbing his hand along Mycroft’s shoulder and arm. In the back of his mind he could feel the bond that linked him to the man next to him. It was gentle, rippling, fluid. “It hasn’t faded.” He didn’t think that it would. It felt strong, like he could dangle over a cliff and not fall.

Mycroft turned and rubbed his face against Greg, settling closer still. “I hope so. I feel…”

“Safe?’

“Mm… secure, protected.” Mycroft rubbed a hand across Greg’s chest, petting him. “Never felt that before. Not really.”

“Would it change anything if it was gone again in the morning?”

“No. S’nice though.” Came the mumbled reply. “Feels s’nice to be so... connected.”

Greg smiled softly at the slurred words. “Yeah, it really does.”

* * *

A sharp knock on the door woke them the next morning. Greg startled awake at the sound. Mycroft grumbled and buried his head under the covers.

“I think breakfast has been delivered.” Greg murmured. He stretched and made to get out of the bed. Mycroft’s long arm snaked out around Greg’s middle.

“No.”

“You want cold croissants?”

Mycroft withdrew his arm. “No.” Sulky was the only way to describe the tone.

Greg snickered at Mycroft’s peevishness and headed to the loo. When he returned Mycroft was sitting up scowling at his pocket watch.

“Why are we up so early?” Mycroft huffed and got out of bed. He shivered in the cool morning air. Quickly grabbing his robe he made his way to the en suite. “I _was_ warm,” he muttered as he passed Greg.

Greg rolled his eyes. “You don’t have to get up, love.”

“Too late!” Mycroft called back to Greg as he shut the bathroom door.

Greg shrugged and headed to the cottage door. The door he had finally closed only a few hours earlier. He stepped out to collect the basket filled with delicious goodies. It was a beautiful day, a stark contrast to the day before. The sun shone brightly and Greg felt a massive sneeze coming on.

Mycroft stared at the mess he’d made at the sink. The violent sneeze had come from nowhere and now toothpaste was everywhere. He quickly wiped his face and rinsed his mouth.

“Gregory!” Mycroft hurried out of the bathroom. He found Greg coming in with the food hamper. “Did you just step out into the sun?”

“Had to.” Greg held up the basket. “Why? Oh… Did you sneeze too?” Mycroft nodded. “That’s brilliant!” Grinning Greg set down the basket and swept Mycroft up into a fierce hug.

Mycroft laughed. “Yes, well, I was brushing my teeth and the effect was less than brilliant.”

“I’ll help clean it up, My-love.” Greg promised and kissed Mycroft warmly. “I guess it’s back to sunglasses for me.”

“No more kale for me.” Mycroft cheerfully agreed. He paused then asked, “Will you mind adding milk to your coffee?”

Greg shook his head. “No, I actually kinda like it.”

* * *

_Six months later…_

Mycroft watched as John Watson hurried after Sherlock. Anthea had walked off a way to follow her instruction regarding the two men’s security level. Mycroft didn’t need to turn around to know who was approaching him from behind.

“So?”

“Yes, I believe you are right.”

“Ha! You owe me a coffee… black.”

Mycroft made a face and turned around to look at his partner, his lover, and his soulmate.

“Just kidding.” Greg gave Mycroft a sparkling smile and a slight squeeze of his shoulder. “How long you think until they figure it out?” Greg lifted his chin in the direction of the two men clearly laughing as they walked away from the crime scene.

Looking back over his shoulder at his brother and his newfound friend, Mycroft sighed. “Uncertain. Dr. Watson seems to believe he’s “not gay” and Sherlock is, well, Sherlock.”

“Well, I hope it’s soon.”

“You simply want to exact your revenge.”

“No.” Mycroft turned with eyebrows raised to gaze at Greg. “Well, alright, perhaps a little. But really, I think it’s a pretty wonderful thing having a soulmate and I want them to experience it.” Greg smiled fondly at Mycroft, who returned the look.

“It is pretty wonderful,” Mycroft agreed. “Except when your soulmate eats tacos for lunch and forgets he’s out of antacids.” Mycroft pulled a small packet from his coat pocket and handed it to Greg.

“Oh ta, love. Sorry about that.” Sheepishly Greg took the packet and put it in his coat pocket.

“Might I request you not eat tacos or any such dyspeptic foods on Thursdays?”

Greg winced. “Ruined your tea with ‘your very old friend’, did I?”

“She was a bit put out that I didn’t eat as many cream puffs as usual.”

“Oh?" Greg couldn't resist teasing his lover. "How many do you usually eat?”

“Never mind that.” Mycroft glanced about and then gave Greg a quick but tender kiss. “Don’t stay too late.”

“I’ll try not to, but don’t wait up for me.”

Mycroft nodded and opened the car door. “Anthea, we’re leaving,” he called before getting inside.

Greg waved them off and headed back to the chaos of the crime scene. He thought about Sherlock and John. Soulmates, Greg was sure of it. The only questions were when would they figure it out and if the world was ready for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the month before Mystrade soulmates week a post on Tumblr circulated with some suggestion and prompts for Valentine's Day (or any day you wanted to write about true love, etc). One of the prompts was about soulmates that sneezed at the same time. I was too amused by the idea and this is what came of that amusement. I hope you enjoyed it.


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